PTB's Writing Challenge 2013
by heatherarielle
Summary: My photography is well-known and awarded. My job pays me highly. My life is full of traveling around the state of Washington and documenting each experience. Oh, wait... that USED to be my life. Now I serve coffee to suits like Edward Cullen.
1. Chapter 1

**Challenge Number / Title: **#1 / Rocky Horizon

**Date Posted: **1-31-13

**Rating:** M (future lemons)

**Fandom: **Twilight

**Genre: **AU

**Content Descriptors: **Angst, Romance

**Character Pairing: **Edward/Bella

#1 – Rocky Horizon - picture prompt.

* * *

_**Bright Light, Dark Room**_

* * *

Seeing life through a lens is the best and worst thing that's ever happened to me.

I tend to get so inside my own head, inside the glass between the world and me that I become detached. I'm oblivious to my surroundings. It's like being under water; everything is muffled and blurred except whatever my camera can see. I feel safe behind a camera, hidden from the world yet exposing it in every way I can.

My photography is well-known and awarded. My job pays me highly. My life is full of traveling around the state of Washington and documenting each experience. My house is small and cute. My clothes are simple and soft. My love life is...nonexistent.

The few men I've dated have given up on me. I don't know if I blame them. I live my life behind my camera. When it's not in front of me, my eyes are searching around, searching for the right angles, the correct lighting. It's beyond an obsession or addiction; it's part of who I am. I used to be outgoing, loud and carefree. I used to think I'd become a CEO of a company and boss people around. I thought business was the way to go, the option I should choose. I didn't realize how hard I'd fall for photography. One class in college was all it took. I had space for one elective. I had to choose – pottery or photography.

Photography won. My major was changed within four classes. My parents were confused but supportive. My friends thought I was nuts. I never felt better.

I love photography. I love how much it consumes me and takes me away. Photography gives me life meaning and makes it worth living. I'm alone, there's no one to pull me away from my work, so I live inside of it.

My parents say your job shouldn't be your life, it should just enhance it. In my case, I think it's both. It enhances my life and is my life.

My jean clad legs are cold from the rock, my elbows are going numb from the bumpy surface. I've been on this ledge for an hour now, taking pictures of the birds and trees. Capturing the sun as it descends toward the ocean. I can feel the pom pom on my hat bounce around in the wind. I know I should leave soon, but I don't want to miss the perfect shot, the one thing that pushes my work today from amazing to stunning. I always hate to leave a place because I'm worried I'll miss the best shot.

When I finally pull my eyes away from the view finder, I allow myself to take in the panoramic view. I pull my bag to my front and dig around for a granola bar, my only source of food for the day. My watch tells me it's past three. I should leave.

I don't make it off the ledge for another half hour. It takes me an hour after that to get to my car. I detour through the park, to watch the people and look at the pond. I took over a hundred pictures today, and my excitement to get back to my office and rifle through them could rival a child in a candy shop.

Each time I open up pictures I've taken on my computer, every emotion that flowed through me during the day comes back. Sad. Happy. Peaceful. Cold. Thoughtful. It fills me and takes me back to that moment. It's like the feeling I get while reading but it's much more visceral.

I get back to the office, plug in my memory card and grab coffee Every day for the last two years I have followed the same routine when I get back from a photo shoot: plug in my memory card, get coffee, and dissect every shot. I'm the harshest critic of my photos, I know that. I always find myself wishing I'd had the camera just a little to the left. I wonder what would've happened if I'd waited a few more seconds to take it. It is easy to get side tracked. I make myself focus. I make myself do my job. I can criticize myself later.

Forty pictures in, I get another coffee.

Sixty in, I get another.

Eighty in, I get a bigger mug.

Ninety in, I feel someone standing beside me. I don't realize how close my face is to my screen, how tight I'm holding my mouse. The photo I'm looking at is one that reminded me of a moment I'd rather forget, pulling me to a place with my mother years ago. My heart burns and my eyes fill with tears. I take a deep breath and lean back in my chair, wanting to separate myself from the memories and emotions.

"Bella." Eric, my boss, is standing to my right. "How's it going? You all right?"

"I'm good, just got lost in my own head for a moment there." My eyes discretely scan the room, seeing a couple people at their computers, filing paperwork.

"Would you be able to come with me for a moment?" He nods his head toward his office in the corner.

"Sure." I stand up, locking my computer. My number one rule is to never let anyone look at the pictures before they are published. I'm protective. I'm possessive. If it isn't on the website, in the newspaper or in a magazine, you won't ever see it.

Following him into his office, I expect to be told about a new assignment. I sit across from him, pulling my pink sweater down over my jeans. I wiggle my toes in my boots and push some hair behind my ears, he starts speaking.

"The company is undergoing a lot of changes, you know about the new management?" I nod.

"They have to make huge budget cuts. Huge, Bella." I nod again.

"I'm so deeply sorry to say this, but we have to cut your position. You're one of the most valuable assets we have at this company in our art and marketing department, but we can't afford you anymore. I tried to convince them otherwise, but they seem to think they can pay someone else far less to do your job, or teach one of the interns." I see him cringe at the thought. I'm too stunned to move.

"I tried, Bella. I promise I did. It's just not going to happen. You'll need to be out in two weeks. That should give you enough time to finish up this assignment and close out anything else you need to. If you need any recommendations or anything, I'm here." His concessions mean nothing to me right now. This job was supposed to be safe employment - not last me for two years out of school and drop me on my face. I was supposed to have security.

This was my dream job.

And now I've lost it.

_**A/N: **_Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.

Special thanks to _TypoKween_, the Amy to my Penny. Best prereader ever. You would not be reading this without her help/motivation. She's also doing the PTB Challenge- check out her story on her ffnet page, it's absolutely incredible!

Thank you to my PTB beta's _darcysmom_ & _mcc101180_


	2. Chapter 2

**Challenge Number / Title: **#2 / The Empty Glass

**Date Posted:**2-1-13

**Rating:** M

**Fandom: **Twilight

**Genre: **AU

**Content Descriptors: **Angst, Romance

**Character Pairing: **Edward/Bella

#2 – The Empty Glass - Imagine an empty glass. Write your entry around this empty glass. This empty glass needs to be specifically mentioned.

* * *

_**Bright Light, Dark Room**_

* * *

My body feels the way I would imagine a bubble feels light, airy, carefree and floaty. Right now, I'm a rum bubble. The empty glass in front of me is mocking me, daring me to fill it up again, like I've done four times already. I haven't moved from my couch in hours, the TV went from being a distraction to just straight up annoying. My hand flicks through my mom's journal, tracing her loopy handwriting. I'm daring myself to remember while forcing myself to forget.

I shut that side of my brain off. It's not worth it to get into that now. The journal is shoved under the couch out of sight, out of mind.

The part of my brain I wish I could shut off tells me to grab my camera, tells me to take a few shots of the glass. The light glittering off the side, the drops of moisture on the bottom, my lipstick marks on the rim. I blink a few times, pretending it's the shutter button, trying to shut myself up.

It works for a few minutes, until my mind wanders.

I remember when I graduated my friends were all so jealous of my job. They told me I was so lucky to find a job in photography right out of school. They told me they were jealous of my salary, double what any entry level wanted to pay.

It all feels insignificant now. It was a fluke, a shooting star.

I've applied at every single photography job in Seattle that fit my criteria or that I could manage to adjust myself into. Five called back. Two interviews. No job offers.

I felt like a failure until I called my sister, Angela, and she pep-talked me into getting an interim job just until I could find another photography one. She tried to talk sense into my head; I knew she was right, but I couldn't get past the failure I felt from losing my dream. I agreed with her, instead of trying to pull her into my depression too. I told her I'd get a job and keep applying around. She seemed satisfied with that and let me off the phone. That was three nights ago.

The bottle of Bacardi in front of me isn't as full as I remember it being. The empty glass in front of me is so tempting that I don't remember pouring the clear liquid inside. The Coke didn't make it in before it slid down my throat, burning every inch. Chugging the bubbles after to soothe the fire doesn't help. The empty glass is back on the table, my fingers tracing the rim. It looks how I feel, empty and exposed.

My entire body feels the weight of my life right now.

I wake up the next morning with a headache so painful my eyes won't open. Three glasses of water and an aspirin later I'm better, but not by much. I go to make coffee and notice I'm out, completely. There's not even enough to pretend to make a cup.

The choice to go down the street to the coffee shop is quick and not debatable. My caffeine addiction far surpasses any hesitation that I have to leave my apartment. Monday and Tuesday are my last two days of work so I plan on using today, Saturday, as a planning day. I need to get my things together, figure out the bills. I have enough savings that I don't need to work right away but I don't want to lean on it and end up out of a job for months. I over-analyze everything. I realize that. It's another trait about myself that annoys me, one I wish I could stop.

The walk to the coffee shop on my block is fast, but it's so packed inside I don't go in right away. I know there's another one around the block, not too far away. I head toward that one, hoping there's less people and more breathing room.

I'm in luck. It's busy, but not in the same packed way. One coffee with two creams and one sugar in my hand and I'm sitting in the comfy chair by the window, not wanting to move. The rain starts to mist around the windows, people pull hoods over their heads, umbrellas pop out.

My coffee is finished within a few minutes and I get another, adding a bagel to my order. My mind wanders to the night before, I wonder where I put the journal, it wasn't in its usual place today. I can't remember. It's always on my nightstand or on the coffee table. If not, it's in my closet, in the wooden box I have tucked under winter coats. None of those places sound familiar right now.

The entire night is a blur, all I remember is staring at the empty glass and thinking it was me. Thinking that every time I filled it up I was helping myself. Lies. It feels as if I've always told myself lies.

A man in a green shirt screen-printed on the chest with the coffee shop name _Liquid Happy,_ walks up to me, excusing himself as he leans over to tape a sheet of paper to the window. _HELP WANTED_ in black letters catches my eye.

"You're hiring?"

"You're looking?" He answers my question with a question. I honestly don't know how to answer. Do I want to work in a coffee shop?

"I might be." I can't tell if I'm avoiding answering him or myself.

"If you are, I can grab you an application." His smile is soft and his skin is russet brown.

"Um, yes, please," I decide instantly, standing up. He walks towards the counter, looking back once to see if I'm following, keeping track of me.

"If you want to fill it out now, I can give it to the manager." His name tag says his name is Paul. I smile at him and pull a pen out of my bag, filling it out right at the counter.

An hour later, I have a job.

**A/N: **_I have 2 more ch's written & ready to post today – after that I will update weekly! _

Stephenie owns Twilight.

Thank you to my lovely beta mauigirl60.

Forever thanking TypoKween. She is also doing this challenge, check out her epic story on her ffnet page! She also made the beautiful banner for this fic ( look top left of page)

Thank you to my girls for your love & support- melmo2632, mystique2626, njsilla, corinnakt, nabstew, blueberryhobos, heinekenstew & brittb128.

Thank you to those who reviewed / favorited / alerted this story – it means so much to me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Challenge Number/Title:** #3 / Word Play

**Date Posted:** 2-1-13

**Rating:** M

**Fandom:** Twilight

**Genre:** AH

**Content Descriptors:** Angst/Romance

**Character Pairing:** Edward and Bella

#3 – Word Play - Use all of the followings words in your entry at least once in any order: tomb, summit, cabbage, king.

* * *

_**Bright Light, Dark Room**_

* * *

I pour myself a glass of wine and sit on the couch. I start working at _Liquid Happy_ bright and early tomorrow at six a.m. I've been so stressed recently that now that I'm employed, I've got stress butterflies fluttering through my stomach: hence, the wine. I suppose new job stress is better than no job stress.

The wine hits me harder than I expected and I'm so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I walk down the hallway to my room, fingertips on the walls to keep me upright. Some of my best photography is in frames. My award winning photo of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in D.C. A filtered photo of Summit Street in Seattle. An artsy shot of cabbage from college that my friends all joked about. One of the forest shots from my time in Kings County, Washington, and a picture of a rock. The rock is the last one before my bedroom door. I always thought it would make me want something stable, be solid and strong for myself.

I lay in bed, trying to give in to sleep but my mind won't turn off. I know I'll end up back in photography soon, this is just to pay the bills, but it still sucks.

Once my mind finally gives into sleep, it feels like minutes before my alarm goes off.

"Hey, Bella! Morning shifts are killer, so you're lucky you've got me around." Paul winks at me before walking me around the store, showing me around. He demonstrates a few different coffees before saying it's mostly going to be trial and error, and just go with the flow. That does nothing to soothe my nerves, but I nod anyway.

I'm given a mocha colored shirt with the words _Liquid Happy _on the back, _Bella_ on the front.

I'm introduced to two other employees, Embry and Leah, who seem nice enough.

Six a.m. hits and the doors are unlocked.

A few customers stroll in, ordering casually. Then a few more, then it's packed. By six thirty, I can't see straight and I'm frantically pounding my fist against a machine. Paul comes over laughing and helps me. "You need to relax, Birdy. You're going to break it."

"That's what she said," Embry whispers, walking by to hand a customer their coffee. I laugh, Paul turns red. Birdy is apparently my nickname now. Swan apparently didn't fit me so it was transformed into Birdy.

As it gets busier, I end up at the counter, which turns out to be a lot more difficult than just making drinks. Now I not only take orders, but I also have to make half of them. One lady comes up and orders something that sounds so insane that I just kind of stare at her until Embry saves me.

By seven, I've got most drinks down pat. The double-swirled-upside-down-regular-twisted-whatever drinks still confuse me, but those are few and far between.

Closer to eight, I feel it start to pick up again, people flooding in the doors. The next customer in line is dressed in a black suit, white shirt and black tie. It seems so formal in such a relaxed environment, I immediately wonder what he does for work. He looks up and my train of thought veers toward how attractive he is. Dark hair that's long and contradicts the formality of the suit, deep green eyes and pouty lips.

The best way to describe him is intense. He just looks intense, his entire body radiates intensity.

"What can I get for you?" I ask, a sentence I've repeated so many times this morning. I bet his voice is intense too. He just stares at me. My eye brows scrunch together, waiting for an answer. "Um, sir?"

He doesn't move, he looks annoyed. His eyebrows raise, as if I should know what his silence means. His eyes travel to the watch on his wrist and back to my face.

"Hello?" I ask, thoroughly confused.

"This is asinine. " Anger radiates from him, along with the intensity. It's a dangerous combo. His voice is full of intimidation, I don't like it. "Coffee,_ now_. My time is very valuable."

"Everyone's time is valuable," I argue with him, when I feel a hand on my lower back and Paul is standing to my right.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Cullen, your coffee is right here." Paul hands him a large hot coffee and he abruptly walks out the door.

"He didn't pay!" I whisper-yell at Paul, my eyes wide.

"He has a tab here, Birdy. The owner felt like it would make sense for people on the run to be able to have a tab with their local coffee shop, if they're reliable of course. Mr. Cullen comes in every morning and gets the same thing. I'll show you later, when we're not packed." He quickly shows me how to charge people's tabs before hurrying off to take more orders.

It takes me too long to get over the frustration of Mr. Cullen and the way he acted. _His_ time is valuable? What the hell does he think about _other_ people's time? That we don't need it? My time is valuable too! I replay it over and over in my head until finally, at my lunch break, I force myself to forget. He's just an asshole.

The rest of my shift is completely uneventful except for a few colorful customers. Mike Newton, the owner of the outdoor store next to the coffee shop hits on me quite blatantly. It's weird. I can never figure out how to tell a guy that I'm not interested so the conversation floats into awkward oblivion until Embry comes to save me. Mike quickly asks me to dinner that night before I can get far enough away, and I have to lie and say I'm meeting one of my friends. I cringe when he says he'll just have to come back and ask for another night.

The only good thing about working mornings is that you have the entire afternoon off. By 2:30, I've gone home, changed and grabbed my camera. Then, I'm walking the streets of Seattle, snapping pictures of birds and buildings.

These pictures aren't for anyone but myself, it's therapeutic and relaxing. It takes me out of my own mind and puts me into the intricate details of getting the perfect shot.

When I'm sitting on my computer that night looking through them, I finally feel content. It's the first time I have since I was told I lost my job. Tomorrow is another early shift, more coffee to serve and Mike to be avoided.

**A/N:**

Stephenie owns Twilight.

Amy, you're the best! Thank you to my awesome beta mauigirl60.

Thoughts on Edward?


	4. Chapter 4

**Challenge Number/Title:** #4 / Mother's Forgiveness

**Date Posted: **2-1-13

**Fandom:** Twilight

**Rating:** M

**Genre:** AH

**Content Descriptors:** Angst/Romance

**Character Pairing:** Edward and Bella

#4 – Mother's Forgiveness - Write the thoughts in a man's mind as he hurries to ask his mother's forgiveness.

* * *

_**Bright Light, Dark Room**_

* * *

_When Dad died, I threw myself into my work. I forced myself to become busy with menial tasks just so I wouldn't have to think about the fact that I did nothing to help him survive. I should have been there more, I should have found him a better doctor, I should have done a lot. But, I didn't._

_Instead, I left you to tend to Dad, alone. I never once went to the house to help you. I avoided. I couldn't picture myself seeing Dad so sick inside the home that I grew up in. I didn't want to taint my memories of him there, so I stayed away. I would stop at the hospital when he was there but that was the extent. I was an absentee son. I let you down. _

_Since then, I've been so consumed with distracting myself from the grief that I can feel it building, I can feel the regret coating my insides and making me sick. _

_I'm so sorry, Mom. I'm so, so sorry. I never meant to leave you alone. I never meant to abandon you. Everything I did was incredibly selfish and disdainful. _

_If I could take it all back, I would. I know that means nothing now. I know that I can't turn back time, I know that I can't bring my father, your husband back, but if I could, I would. _

_I know I've been insufferable, horrid and rotten for months. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm asking for it. Please, forgive me. _

_I love you, Mom. _

The letter is stuffed inside an envelope with, _Esme Masen_, written in the same scrawled script. Someone dropped it on the floor in the shop and a lady handed it to me, saying I should put it in "lost and found". When I asked Paul where the lost and found was, he laughed at me and pointed to a bussing bucket under the register that had a key-chain, sunglasses and belly bag shoved into it.

I'm hesitant to throw the letter into the bucket, everything in there seems so impersonal and left behind. This letter shouldn't have been left behind, it should've been given to Esme. I can feel the emotion floating off the pages, the sadness in each letter.

"Birdy, large mocha with skim milk." Embry snaps me out of my thoughts. I get back to work, glad it's after noon and I don't have to deal with morning customers with this mindset.

Mr. Cullen was in this morning and as grumpy as ever. You'd swear he was being hit on the head with a hammer the entire time he was here. Everything about him radiates anger and annoyance. I found a way to make myself busy and not have to take his order, but I couldn't help myself from staring at him a little bit. It's a shame he's such an asshole because he's very nice to look at.

Today, I noticed he purses his lips in this pouty way whenever he's waiting for something. It'd be totally adorable if when he stopped pouting he didn't speak. It'd be even better if he didn't speak at all. Yeah, no talking would be a lot better.

There's a few other regulars that I've come to know since I started almost a week ago.

One woman comes in and gets a coffee so white it's basically a splash of coffee in her cream. A man with a knit hat always comes in to get an iced coffee with one cream, one sugar. Another lady comes in and always gets English breakfast tea with milk.

I'm starting to get the hang of things, I don't ask as many questions as I used to. I'm noticing that you can usually tell what people will get just by what they look like, it's silly.

"Did you get your last break yet, Birdy?" Paul comes over, his hand resting on my lower back, his shoulder touching mine, as he whispers in my ear.

"Um, no. Not yet." I'm extremely conscious of how close he is to me.

"Go now, then. Leah is leaving early." He nods his head at me, smiling sweetly, before walking away.

"Okay." I grab a coffee before getting my purse from the back room and heading to a table by the window. For the first couple of days here, I didn't want to bring my camera, I didn't want to get lost in the lens. When it became too difficult to leave it at home, I brought it. For the past three days I've taken pictures during each of my breaks.

The street view from inside the logo-painted glass. People's feet as they walk in. The bell on the door dinging with each move. Coffee cups on tables. The line of people craving their caffeine fix.

I capture the life inside the shop for the minutes I'm not working. It helps me ease the intense cravings that I have to click the shutter button. I try to focus on work when I clock in, I try not to think about the shot with each part of my day. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Paul said the foam on some of the cappuccinos I make is an art piece. He thinks I do it for the customer when, in reality, I do it for the fact that it'd look amazing with the right angle and a yellow filter.

Pulling my camera from my bag, I pull it up to my eyes, looking through the lens and immediately relaxing. Someone's curled up on a couch across from me, buried in a book with a Liquid Happy cup in their hands. Click. I turn toward the window, camera never leaving my eyes and consume myself in the fog on the window. Click. Click.

My body loses itself in the camera and my break flies by. With one last shot of my empty coffee cup, I pull all my stuff together and head back to the counter.

"Birdy baby's back! How was your break?" Paul winks at me, like he always does, as he fills up a cup with coffee.

"Short," I laugh.

"Yeah, always is. What are you up to after work today?"

"Nothing really." I'm never busy unless it's work; a social life isn't on my list of things to-do.

"Want to hang out?" He's fun, why not? My mind is trying to think of reasons not to, as I answer.

"Sure?" I answer him in a question but I don't think he notices, his smile just gets bigger.

**A/N:**

Stephenie owns Twilight. I'm still waiting for Midnight Sun.

Thank you to my awesome beta: mauigirl60

TypoKween is my motivator & she loves Sheldon. Go to her ffnet page & read her stories!


	5. Chapter 5

**Challenge Number/Title:** #5 / The Limerick

**Date Posted: **2/7/2013

**Fandom:** Twilight

**Rating:** NC17

**Genre: **AH

**Content Descriptors: **Angst/Romance

**Character Pairing: **Edward and Bella

#5 – The Limerick -  
Your entry must include a limerick  
About anything you can stomach.  
Follow the form  
So we aren't torn  
Between accepting your entry or rejecting it.

* * *

_**Bright Light, Dark Room**_

* * *

"Birdy, are you good at poetry?"

I laugh before realizing she's serious. "No, not at all."

"Damn. I have to write a limerick for this class and its due tomorrow."

"A what?"

"Exactly. I don't know. It has to rhyme and have the correct amount of syllables and I can't handle this." She puts her head in her hands on top of her books and sighs loudly. She looks so exasperated that it's comical. I laugh and before I know it, she is too.

"Birdy, baby, I'm ready when you are." Paul's putting his coat on as he speaks, walking toward me. Butterflies flutter in my stomach - I'm nervous. Is this a date? Should I be nervous?

"Oooooh, Paul! Making your move tonight?" Embry yells from behind the counter.

"Shut up, Embry!" he yells back, trying to laugh it off but I can see the embarrassment in his red cheeks.

"Does anyone know how to write a fucking limerick?!" Leah pleads, as I laugh again.

"Limer- what?" Paul questions, as Embry comes bouncing out front.

"I love limericks!" Embry takes the seat next to Leah as we all stare at him like he has ten heads.

"Seriously?" I ask.

"Come on, Birdy, don't act so surprised. "

"Yeah Birdy, Embry thinks he can do everything. You should know that by now." Paul jokes, making a face at Embry while his hand touches my back.

"_There once was a boy named Paul_

_Who thought he could have it all_

_But Bella said no_

_She didn't want to go_

_He felt like he was two feet tall." _Embry finishes and we're silent. Then we're not. I'm almost on the floor laughing so hard, tears are pulling at my eyes. Leah is bent over, clutching her books for an anchor as she laughs. Paul has Embry on the floor within seconds, wrestling with him in an _I-can't-believe-you-just-did-that _way.

Once they're done wrestling and too out of breath to continue, I grab my jacket and bag. Embry offers to help Leah and they leave to go hang out somewhere else.

I throw on my coat and grab my bag and we're out the door. Paul is over compensating for earlier, avoiding getting to close or saying the wrong thing. It's painfully obvious.

"Those are cool shoes. I mean, yeah, they're cool." I look down at my red Converse and laugh, they're nothing special and I've worn them every day. "Not that I'm, like, checking out your shoes or whatever."

"Stop acting weird." I watch his face redden before he looks back at me, black hair falling in his face.

"I'm not." He shakes his head, smiling slightly.

"Yes, you are. Stop it."

"Okay, Birdy baby."

Conversation isn't awkward but in an hour, it's still very superficial. Weather, work, annoying customers. It hasn't strayed into anything dangerous but it's only a matter of time before it will, I know it.

"How old are you?" he asks abruptly, I knew we couldn't stay in safe territory for long.

"Twenty-four, you?"

"Twenty-three." He smiles, hand coming up to push his hair off his face. He looks older than twenty-three, I would've said twenty-five. It must be his black hair and tan skin, they age him in a good way. His eyes are almost the same color as mine though, his are chocolate brown while mine are lighter, like sand.

"Tell me about yourself, Birdy." His eyes smile just as much as his mouth, his skin looks so soft I have the urge to touch it.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything." He's leaning across the table slightly, eyes locked on mine. His hands are casually draped on the table, I could touch them if I moved mine a few inches forward. I don't, but the thought is there.

"Well, you already know I'm twenty-four. I graduated two years ago with a photography degree. I got a job right out of college and until a few weeks ago, thought it was more permanent." The look on his face tells me he's inferring what I'm about to say next. "They had budget cuts and my position didn't make it. Now, I work with you."

I try to make the conversation light at the end but it's too late. "Man, that sucks. I'm sorry."

I think he can tell I don't want to get into it. "So, is that why you always have a camera attached to your face during your breaks?"

"Yes." More laughing, it's light and carefree with him. I can feel his eyes on me, I find myself giving him flirty eyes back. Is this a date? I look down at my sandwich, it's almost gone.

"Could I see some of your work?" he asks, and I can tell he's genuinely interested. I'm happily surprised at his request and more than willing to share.

"I could bring you my book tomorrow, if you want."

"Please do, I bet it's amazing." I blush, I can't help it. He's sweet and he's taking an interest in my photos. He doesn't realize how wrapped up in them I get. "You light up when you talk about photography, did you know that?" It's rhetorical, I smile for my answer.

"Come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?" I ask. He smiles before wrapping his hand around my waist and guiding me out of the café.

"How do you feel about chocolate?"

"I think it should have its own section on the food pyramid." Apparently, that's the right answer. He almost bounces us away with excitement as we head toward what he calls _"the best place ever"._

"If it's so awesome why didn't we just go there first?"

"Too many people, I wanted you to myself for a little while." He winks. I giggle. He grabs my hand. I let him.

I think this is a date.

-X-

I ate the best chocolate cupcake last night that I've ever had in my entire life. Trust me, I've had a lot of cupcakes but this one takes the cake. Literally. Paul brought me to a place with so many baked goods I thought I might explode. We ate far too much and laughed so hard my stomach hurt. His hands stayed on me a lot more as time went on. Hand-holding turned to arms around my shoulder, that stay there for the rest of our night. It was fun and one of the first times in a while that I've felt like I'm missing something by not dating or having a boyfriend.

The sunrise and I are becoming better friends, though I'm still angry about it. It's six a.m. and I'm at the counter, getting ready for the crowd. I'm glad I had a good night with Paul because I really didn't want things to get awkward between us. Leah has the later shift today, because of class, and I hope Embry helped her with her limericks.

The usual customers start to come in.

Sue gets her white chocolate cream coffee.

Ashley gets her cream with a splash of coffee.

Knit hat guy – whose name still escapes me - gets his iced coffee with one cream and one sugar.

Liz comes in to get her English breakfast tea with milk.

Elena gets her double tall soy vanilla spice latte.

And then … there's Mr. Cullen.

He walks in and the atmosphere in the store changes. People move out of the way for him, they take notice of his black suit, bright white shirt and dark perfectly-styled hair. I see the women stare appreciatively, while the men stare with envy. He seems oblivious, typing into his iPhone or talking to someone who's probably his assistant, he's consumed in himself and focuses on no one else.

As I help the customers ahead of him my eyes continue to flick back to him, watching him from a distance is safer and less intimidating.

He inches closer and closer with each order I take, our own version of suspense. He's not aware of me, but I'm completely aware of him.

When he gets up to the counter, his cold stare hits me hard, causing a chill to move through me. I see his jaw unhinge and move left, right, left, right, as if he's thinking about what to say next.

"May I help you?" I ask. It feels like my insides are vibrating with nerves.

He's silent, says nothing, just like always. I'm internally smacking myself, cursing myself for speaking. Heat rises to my face, my chest, coloring me red. Painful green pierces my sandy brown. His hair is more disheveled than when he entered, his fingers no doubt the cause.

I'm the idiot, he's not going to talk. He wants his coffee, _now._

My brain won't click though, I can't for the life of me think of his coffee. Black? Cream? Sugar?

In the past week that I've worked here, I've only had one day off and he's been in every day. Same time. Same drink. Out of those seven days, I've only had to wait on him two other times; the first had been horrid. The second had been chaotic. He was on his phone, barking away at the person on the other side, short words spoken as if to jab them.

I move to grab a cup, medium hot with one sugar and an espresso shot? Is that his drink? I look back to him. Big mistake.

Green pulls me in, twists me, turns me, gives me butterflies. Flirty butterflies, not nervous ones. I want to grab my camera, I want to take pictures of the bright light coming from his eyes. I want to capture the anger, the intensity. I blink, taking photos without a camera. Click. Click.

I realize I've been staring too long. A loud sigh leaves his lips, pink pouty lips. He's annoyed. I might not have been the one serving him but whenever he's in the walls of this café, I'm fully aware of him. He has a powerful presence that demands the utmost attention.

He is silent, not flinching, his eyes showing no warmth. He is a cruel combination of fire and ice—beauty like an angel, but an aura so cold it could cause freezer burn. What if I used that jet black tie around his neck to keep him silent? Wrap it around that jaw, past those pouty lips and tie it in the back. Watch his teeth bite into the silky material as I pull tighter. The cold stare in his eyes would turn to lust, powerful –all-consuming lust. The vision in my head morphs into one of him without a shirt, then without pants...

"You are still incompetent, I see." His voice is crystal clear and just loud enough that it pisses me off. My eyes frantically scan the customers to see if anyone heard his snarky remark. If they did, they ignore it. It still bothers me. I open my mouth to say something back when a coffee is pushed in front of me and toward him.

"Morning, Mr. Cullen, here's your coffee." Embry hands it over and pushes me out of the way to plug it into the cash register. I can't tell if I'm happy he covered for me or mad that he blocked me from saying something back.

I decide on happy. I can't lose this job.

"Thank you-" I whisper, heat rising to my face. "I just blanked real quick there."

"It happens, don't worry about it. I usually see him come in and start his coffee while he's still in line." He laughs at himself before continuing. "He's just an asshole, I wouldn't let him get to you. You're still new here, Birdy."

"I appreciate it." My hand squeezes his arm in thanks. "What is his coffee?"

"Dark roast, two creams and one shot of espresso."

"That sounds bitter." My face scrunches together at the thought.

"You are what you drink." He winks at me before moving back to pour coffee into a mug.

"Did you ever help Leah with the limericks?"

"Most definitely." A smile bursts onto his face before he pauses, eyes searching for her before landing back on me.

"Oh, boy." I smile at him. When I turn to help the next customer, I spot a black suit standing against the pick-up counter. My eyes target his before I can stop myself. Swimming in green.

Fuck. How long was he standing there?

I'm frozen. My eyes flash down to the ground and I help the customer in line, avoiding him completely while still making sure I know his every move.

"Take your first break early, Birdy." Paul moves in beside me, pushing me away gently. Five minute breaks aren't much, but it will be enough to get my head back into the day and out of the clouds. I grab my camera, otherwise I'll just be awkwardly blinking at people. I don't see any _him_ in my walk to a table but I don't look. I don't know if I want to know. I can still feel his green eyes penetrating me, looking at me like I'm beneath him on every level.

I'm caught up in a shot of rain drizzling down the window when I feel someone next to me. As I pull my camera away from my face, my body tightens; I know who it is without looking. A black suit, white shirt and black tie are in my peripheral. "If you focused as much on your job as you do on that camera, you wouldn't fuck up my order every time."

I've never felt more like a child in my entire life. He scolds me with his words and his eyes drive the point home before he walks out the door.

Emotionless, detached and intense. Always intense. Just like on that first day, it radiates off his body, it presses you down, it makes you feel like you're an inch tall. It's so harsh you want to run, but so unique you can't stop staring.

If only I could capture that much intensity from my camera.

**A/N:**

Stephenie owns Twilight.

Amy, without your amazing comments and suggestions and notes this would be nonexistent. Are you willing to draw a moustache on your finger as a conversational ice breaker? I am.

Mauigirl60 is the best beta ever! Thank you.

Go to Typokween 's ffnet page & read her amazing PTB challenge & her epic fic The Slowest Burn.


	6. Chapter 6

**Challenge Number/Title: **#6 / The Inanimate POV

**Date Posted: 2/18/13**

**Fandom: **Twilight

**Rating:** NC17

**Genre: **AH

**Content Descriptors: **Angst/Romance

**Character Pairing: **Edward and Bella

#6 – The Inanimate POV - Write from the Point of View of a piece of furniture. Your entry should be in first person POV. You can choose any piece of furniture from any room.

* * *

_**Bright Light, Dark Room**_

* * *

It's so cold in the morning, before anyone gets here. I feel very alone and unwanted. It isn't until I feel his dry-cleaned tailored trousers settle down on my cool exterior that serenity consumes me. It's nice. Peaceful. But then I realize he's tense. His leg keeps bouncing up and down against my leg. His body shifts, a little to the left, a little to the right. He straightens up. He slouches. Fidgeting like he can't help but do anything else. His hand comes between his legs to drum on my seat, finger-tips playing a song I can't decipher.

"Hello." A feminine voice comes from my right, the occupant in my seat replies with a gruff "good morning" before his fingers are back to tapping.

Minutes later he shifts forward, only inches of him actually touching me. I wonder why he's moved so drastically, what could be making him so anxious today?

Every day, he comes in and chooses me. I don't know what about me is so special, why he didn't choose another? But no, it's always me. I've gotten used to his forceful way of sitting, moving and standing up. He acts like I don't matter, which I don't. He moves as if I weigh less than a feather, when in reality it's far more than that. He works out, his arm muscles sometimes press against me, my arms digging into his.

"Fuck." He mumbles under his breath, he's usually quiet when he's here. "Can't even get my fucking order right."

There's more words flowing out of his mouth but I can't hear them, he's talking into his hand and mumbling as lowly as possible.

"How are you today, Mr. Cullen?" Another man's voice comes from in front of me, startling him. I feel him jolt, one hand coming down to my side to clamp down on me - hard and rough, tight and forceful.

"I'm fine. How are you doing, Mr. Newton?" His voice is strained, his fingertips digging into me.

"Lovely, mind if I sit down?" he asks, despite my occupant's obvious resistance.

"I'm leaving soon." His clipped tone would send anyone away immediately, but not Mr. Newton.

"Me too." The man he calls Mr. Newton sits a few feet away from me. I feel Mr. Cullen's muscles tense in his legs and back as he leans into me. I wish I could help him, he seems stressed.

"Bella!" Mr. Newton calls. The leg that was bouncing stops, his grip on my side releases momentarily before starting again.

"Thank you so much for the coffee, you're a doll."

"You're uh- you're welcome." A soft feminine voice takes over and the grip tightens again. I know her.

"Can I take you up on dinner? Tonight? Eight?"

"Can't tonight, family is coming to visit." Her voice is apologetic and awkward.

"I'm not giving up on that one, she's quite sexy for a coffee shop worker, right?" Mr. Newton nudges my leg, Mr. Cullen moves us back an inch.

"Seems a bit young for you, don't you think?" Tense and awkward. The grip on my side loosens, I'm thankful. The tapping foot starts again.

"Oh, Cullen, don't get so caught up in that bull shit." Mr. Newton jokes, nudging me again, vibrating up through to him. I wish I could nudge Mr. Newton back, it's annoying. "She's young and beautiful and obviously needs someone to take care of her. I'll be tapping that by the end of the month."

"I'm sure you will, Newton." Abruptly he stands up, pushing me backwards and into the wall with a loud bang. Though, he usually pushes me away without a second thought, this seems harsher than normal. I let it go, someone will be coming for me soon enough.

I feel Newton leave seconds later, obviously not wanting to hang around if he isn't here.

It's empty for a moment before people start sitting on me again. I go through a couple hours of scrambling, up and down, left and right. One person sits on the edge while her friend sits on the other. I feel two people on me the next round, they're too heavy.

Hot coffee is spilled all over my seat, Embry comes to clean it up.

I'm used as a shelf for book bags and purses. A baby seat is placed in my lap. Feet are all over me, kicking and pushing.

It's hours after he left that the soft-voiced girl sits on me. Bella. She's on her break, I can hear her camera clicking as she photographs the room.

I wonder if she'll take a picture of me.

She stays very still as she consumes herself in her camera. No tapping feet, no gripping hands, no jolting moves. She doesn't kick me or push me, she's gentle and calm. She's light as a feather. She's sat on me before, always on her breaks.

I feel her move to her left, grab something out of her bag and put it on the table. A computer. Her hands move but her body stays still, I feel the slight movements as she starts typing.

"Day one, coffee shop." She breathes, no one can hear her but me. "It's extremely cloudy and rainy today, damp and dark. I kind of love this type of day, the customers seeming to revel in their warm cups of coffee and tea. Their appreciation level is expanded. The usuals all showed up. Poodle asked me out again. His hair is so damned curly and poofy I can't help but think of a poodle every time I look at him. I had a lame excuse, I know I should just tell him no, but it's hard. Whatever. Bittersweet was here too. Same attitude, same sleek suit. I expected no less from such a predictable asshole. No one has claimed the letter yet. It bothers me. I wonder if there's any way to put out a search party for the owner, it really seemed like it was important."

"What?" A customer beside her asks suddenly, making her jump in surprise.

"Excuse me?" She shifts just slightly, I can barely feel her move.

"Were you talking to me or to yourself?"

"Oh, myself. I'm sorry." She starts to type again, this time without speaking. All I can hear is the rapid press of the keys as she types out her thoughts and the occasional sigh of frustration. She's not like Mr. Cullen, she doesn't grab me tightly or bounce her foot. Even in her frustrated state she's calmer than he's ever been.

I hear her gasp under her breath as she types frantically, leaving me to wonder what she so desperately needs to get out of her head and into writing.

**A/N:**

Meyer owns Twilight. I own a dog named Charlie Swan.

Thank you to my super fast & awesome beta, mauigirl60

Yo Amy! We be out dropping science, son.

Go read** TypoKween**'s PTB Challenge, she's super talented.

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed - it's really great to hear your thoughts! Also, thank you to those who have favorited/follow this story! I don't have a day I update each week so putting it on alert is probably your best bet to know when a new chapter is posted!


	7. Chapter 7

**Challenge Number/Title:**#7 / Valentine Loos

**Date Posted: 2/18/13**

**Fandom:**Twilight

**Rating:** NC17

**Genre:**AH

**Content Descriptors:**Angst/Romance

**Character Pairing:**Edward and Bella

#7 – Valentine Loos - Write your entry based around this plot: trapped in the bathroom on Valentine's Day.

* * *

_**Bright Light, Dark Room**_

* * *

"When are you coming home?" My sisters voice whines into my ear.

"I don't know, I was just home in December." That was only a little over a month ago.

"But that was for Christmas, that doesn't count. A lot has happened since then. Come on, please!" I'm moving around my living room cleaning up, it's been neglected recently and it's starting to annoy me. My hands pick up some lint on the rug and move to fix the bottom of the couch when I hit something hard. My fingers reach under and hit the familiar cover of my moms journal.

"Yes!" I almost yell. I've been looking for this for so long!

"You're coming?!" Ang squeals in my ear. _Damnit._

"I'm not coming home for Valentines Day." Standing up and placing the journal on the counter I look at the calendar, it's already February 10th.

"Why not? Do you have a Valentine this year?" Her voice is suggestive, I ignore her.

"You have Eric, why would I come home to be a third wheel? I'm not about to hang out with Dad and Sue, so don't even mention that." I love spending time with my dad, but not on one of the most romantic days of the year.

"Please, Bella! I miss you. I want to hear about this new job, not just in short snippets before you hang up."

I don't even bother telling her she could just talk to me over the phone. I know if I do she'll give me some snarky comment about it being better in person.

"Then come visit me later this month." I put out the bait, knowing she'll take it.

"Okay! When?" _Knew it._

"I don't know, any time after the twentieth."

"I'm holding you to that, Bells!" I let out a deep breath.

"I don't doubt that. I have to go, I'll talk to you later."

-x-

"Birdy, baby." I hear Paul come up behind me, his hands tickling down the sides of my arms. "It's almost Valentine's Day."

We've been working together all day and he keeps finding ways to put his fingers on me. Whether it be to brush them past my arms, grab the same cup as me, move me over by my waist, anything. I can feel his pull to me, he can't stop himself.

"Yes, I know." I turn around to face him, butterflies fluttering through me. He makes me nervous in a good way. Our relationship is still new, we haven't announced it.

"Can I take you out?"

"If you'd like," I say, noncommittally.

"You know I like." He winks, leaning into me. I move my head to the side as he gets closer. I'm not used to this much touching and flirting and attention. It's absolutely thrilling and insanely terrifying.

"Okay."

"I was thinking we could go to that Italian place a few blocks over, Tulios?" He locks his arms behind my back.

"I think you have to make reservations way more than a few days in advance to get in there, Paul."

"I may have already made them," he mumbles,, smiling and looking down at my feet.

"Ah, what if I would've said no?" All I see is his smile as he walks away from me.

It's weird how this relationship is so different from any others I've had. Usually, the guy is annoyed that I'm consumed with my camera. Paul isn't. He loved looking at my book, searching through my photos. He tells me about cool places I should photograph. He thinks it's adorable to watch me lose myself in my camera. Why is he different?

Maybe it's because we work together. Photography isn't my job anymore, really. He doesn't lose me every day for twelve plus hours and then some. He sees me when I'm working and he's around me a lot more than any other man I've dated. Maybe that's what makes this different?

-x-

I carefully slide out of Paul's car, my pink mini dress riding up slightly. He told me I looked gorgeous. He didn't stop looking at my legs the entire way here. I feel sexy tonight. When people stare at me, I don't look away.

As we walk into the restaurant I feel a few men stare; it's confidence boosting. A couple of women eye my black patent pumps and matching clutch; they're more concerned with my outfit.

As we dig into the bread basket placed on the table, I can feel Paul's eyes on me. I look up and he looks down. It's awkward. I don't like it.

"What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something." His voice is monotone. I can't read him. Is this the break-up speech? Is he already sick of me? This is only our second date.

"Okay?" I grab my wine and take a tiny sip, waiting for his question.

"I know this is only our second date, but I was wondering if you'd be opposed to being more uh- exclusive?" he asks. I can feel his insecurity radiating from him.

I don't even know why I panic, but I do. My hand moves to put my wine glass down too fast and it hits the table. Dark red wine splashes all over my legs and the bottom of my super short dress.

"Oh! Bella!" He jumps up and moves towards me with his napkin.

"It's okay, I'm sorry. I'll be right back." I stand up and walk toward the bathroom. I hate how relieved I am at the delay I've just created.

The bathroom is packed with a bunch of girls, all primping and gossiping. You'd think they knew each other but I'm pretty sure they don't. As I walk past some stalls a girl comes out of one far too quickly and runs directly into me.

"The fuck?" she growls at me, before moving over to the sinks. I follow, mumbling an apology and figuring it's too late for that. She's not having a good night, I can tell. My heart beats quick and hard, not letting me forget the situation I'm in.

Grabbing paper towels, I attempt to get the wine out of my dress and it's not working. I turn around and walk into one of the stalls, locking the door, trying to calm myself down. I'm frustrated with my apprehension with Paul. I'm frustrated with the deep purple stains on my pink dress. I'm frustrated with the bitch that ran into me. Deep breaths, I tell myself. I hear the shuffle of people in the bathroom, the girls complimenting each other snidely about their outfits. It's all fake, it always is. I put the lid down on the toilet and sit, my heart still beating hard in my chest. I'm panicking and I can't stop. I want to punch something to get rid of some tension from my body but this isn't the place for that.

A few more minutes of deep breathing and focusing on my heart beat and I think I'm ready to head back. "Don't be a coward," I mumble to myself. I unlock the door and walk back to the sinks, taking my time to wash my hands as thoroughly as possible. The bitch that ran into me is still in here, she's basically reapplying her entire face of make-up.

I take another deep breath, trying to calm myself down, as I dry my hands off. It's just Paul, there's nothing to worry about. I focus on my heels clicking against the tile floor as I walk out of the bathroom. Turning right I walk directly into a couple leaning against the wall next to the door. My entire body slams into their connected arms and bodies, effectively breaking them apart. Their lips are broken from the kiss they were so desperately sharing. I hear the woman huff loudly while he groans. I feel like a complete klutz.

She's a tall blonde girl, model-skinny and high-fashion dressed. Her ice-blue eyes look at me and I'm intimidated.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, avoiding looking at them as best as I can, while backing up to move around them. Someone else comes out of the bathroom, the girl who was in there on the phone. She's still not paying attention to anything but herself. She walks past me, side-swiping me with her shoulder, knocking me off balance. She barely turns her head to say, "Watch where you're fucking going!" She must be having a lovely Valentine's Day.

My heels start to tip and my hands reach out, searching for a wall to hold onto. I don't want to fall.

A large, warm hand grabs my upper arm, keeping me balanced and off the floor. My breath shakes as embarrassment sinks in. I look up at the couple I've now disturbed beyond recovery and can't stop my jaw from dropping or my hand from slapping against my mouth.

Bittersweet. Mr. Cullen. Green, green, green.

So fucking intense.

His eyes squint briefly before opening wide and scanning down my body. I feel myself heat up, a red blush flooding my cheeks. When he gets to my shoes he closes his eyes hard before opening them back up to meet mine.

My breathing is coming out in short pants, I can't stop it. Without letting go of my arm, he looks at the blue-eyed model and says, "Go back to the table."

She starts to speak but stops abruptly. I can't see his face and I'm sure I wouldn't want to right this second. Turning on her sparkly silver heels she walks away. Green eyes are back on mine.

"Are you alright?" His hand is still wrapped around my arm. It's strong and warm. His eyes flash to where we're connected and then back to me.

"Yes," I answer. He opens his mouth to speak again and I interrupt him. "Thank you for catching me, I appreciate it."

He nods, keeping silent, not speaking the words he was about to a few seconds ago. "I'll see you later?" I say it as a question and I don't know why. I know I'll see him. He comes in every fucking day. His grip tightens slightly on me, just enough that I notice.

As I move to walk around him and back into the restaurant, his hand stays locked on my arm. I look at his fingers, wrapped around me, and then up into his eyes. We say nothing. He's so close I can feel his breath on my skin. The pattern of his breath, in and out, is intoxicating. I feel myself sway a little on my heels and a soft touch to my waist stops me from falling again.

Now his other hand is on my waist, holding me so lightly and carefully that it's barely there. My breathing shakes, I hope he doesn't hear.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Bella." My eyes are focused on his lips as he speaks. I can't move; I don't want to. He smirks and releases my arm and then my waist, leaving me in the hallway alone - confused, flustered and thinking of the green eyes that are forever burned into my mind.

**A/N: **

SM owns Twilight.

Thoughts on Edward & Bella's first interaction outside of Liquid Happy?

I want to thank you for all the reviews/alerts/favorites. You're all amazing.

Mauigirl60 is the best beta & deals with my aversion to commas and helps me so much.

Amy, The Burn Trilogy. Big Burn Theory. New Burn. Your ideas and comments and notes help more than you know.

Go check out **TypoKween's** PTB Challenge - I'm obsessed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Challenge Number/Title: **#8 / Talk My Ear Off

**Date Posted: 3/7/13**

**Fandom:**Twilight

**Rating:** NC17

**Genre:**AH

**Content Descriptors: **Angst/Romance

**Character Pairing: **Edward and Bella

#8 – Talk My Ear off - Using the above picture as inspiration, write your entry based around a conversation taking place. Your entry should be mostly dialogue. Narrative is allowed but should not be the focus of the entry. There must be at least two people talking in this conversation.

* * *

_**Bright Light, Dark Room**_

* * *

"Here you are, Mr. Cullen." I smirk as I hand him his freshly-made coffee. He had barely reached the counter when I thrust it at him. I move to type in the order to his tab.

My heart stops as I hear the words "thank you." mumbled from his pouty lips. My head snaps up, green eyes meet mine and I can't help the surprised look that's stuck to my face. Valentines Day was yesterday. He had his hands on me last night. He spoke to me last night. He used my name last night. Now, he's thanking me?

"You're welcome."

-x-

I'm on my break in the afternoon and I still can't believe he said thank you this morning. Two words I never thought I'd hear from someone so cold and cruel. The wind blows and I pull my hood on, fingers clicking through the photo's I've been taking.

I pull my camera back up to my eyes, scanning the streets, clicking sporadically at the movement around me. My lens catches a glimpse of messy hair coming out of the shop and I slide it back to focus quickly.

Mr. Cullen…with a new coffee in his hands. I didn't notice him in there when I left five minutes ago. Did he sneak past me?

He's on the phone, I keep my camera up but strain to listen to his words.

"I know, I'll be there." Is he talking to his girlfriend from last night?

"I promise, this time I will." Click. I take a photo of his profile, strong and defined.

"You know I care, I care so fucking much." His voice is pained and low. He drinks long sips of his coffee. Click. Click. His face. Click. His hair. Click. His jaw. Click.

"I'm sorry." More coffee.

"Yes, I'll see you soon. Love you too, Mom." He hangs up and drinks a bit more. I click a few more pictures, caught up in the way the cloudy day makes everything feel bluer than normal.

I feel a bump on my shoulder and jump, the person keeps walking. I flip around to see where they were coming from, even though they're obviously gone.

"Do people always run into you this much?" That voice. I turn around to see him standing only a few feet behind me.

"Um, yes?" I'm taken off guard by him. I'm not used to words coming out of his mouth that are remotely nice. Last night still has me off and this mornings "thank you" still has me shaky.

"You're not sure?"

"No?" My mind can't stop focusing on him speaking.

"How was your Valentines?" he asks, a smile pulling at his lips.

"Great. How was yours?" My voice is low and unsure, testing the waters.

"It ended better than it started."

My eyebrows scrunch together. "What does that mean?"

"What do you think it means?" he asks, in full smirk mode.

"I truly have no idea."

He says nothing back.

I panic. "Well, I'm just going to head back to work?"

"Why do you keep asking me questions you already know the answer to?"

"I don't know." I truly don't.

"You shouldn't waste questions on silly things like that." He shifts on his feet, bringing him slightly closer to me.

"Oh? What should I waste them on?"

"Interesting things."

"What do you qualify as interesting? A new Dior suit? Gold cuff links? Burberry ties?" My voice is laced with sarcasm.

"Those are all very interesting but I don't appreciate being judged by someone who thinks they know me."

"I _do_ know you. You're the asshole who comes in here everyday wanting everyone to wait on him hand and foot. You expect people to know you when in reality you're a nobody."

"Is that what you think?" His hand grabs his chest, faking the hurt he feels from my comments.

"Yes."

"So you'd rather waste your questions on irrelevant things like attire? Wouldn't you want to actually get to know someone before judging them?"

"Why would I do that? Why would I want to know about someone who treats everyone like dirt? I don't need to ask about you to know exactly what type of person you are." I'm not even thinking before speaking. Words are flowing out of my mouth like word vomit. I can't stop.

"That's not true." I hate how sad he sounds.

"You're a fucking liar, you know that? Are you bipolar or something? You're flip-flopping around like it's your job," I snap, not knowing what to do with him at this point.

"You confuse me."

"Well you give me whiplash. With how you've treated me, you're lucky I'm at work or you'd have severe hot coffee stains all over your expensive suits."

"Huh, so this is what it feels like." Hands pull at his hair as he looks everywhere but at me.

"What?"

"When you're focused on something you really don't let it go, do you?" The slight smirk is back. Green eyes are weighing heavily on me.

"No. I don't." I'm persistent.

"Why is that?"

"I don't know." _Because of my mom._

"Do you always focus on things this intently?" The way he asks implies more than I'm willing to answer.

"Sometimes, it depends on what it is."

"What does it depend on?" He pushes, not wanting to let up.

"Um, the person, the situation, my mood at the time?"

"Why do you twist your ring on your finger while you talk? Are you nervous?" He nods at my fingers, twisting the ring on my thumb.

My head shakes slightly, he won't stop with the questions. "Anxious."

"I make you anxious?"

"You make me a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"Do you like questions?"

"I just don't get why you're asking so many."

"What if I had a purpose?"

"_Do_ _you_?"

"Do you _want_ me to?"

"Are you a lawyer or something? I feel like I'm some criminal being cross-examined and if I answer incorrectly, I'll be handcuffed and escorted out of here."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am."

"Wait…really?"

"Yes. Carlisle Cullen is my father."

My eyes widen, Carlisle is a well-known laywer in Seattle. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Wow. I wonder why someone would _choose_ to be a courtroom shark."

He scoffs at my comment, "Wow, your insults know no bounds do they?"

I don't know what to say. Am I really being that harsh? I feel my lips pout as I contemplate his words.

"Did you know that in all the time we've spent out here, not once have you asked me about myself? I suppose it's because you seem to have me all figured out. An arrogant court-room shark who likes expensive suits and insulting people – oh, and who lies and is semi bi-polar. Can't forget that."

I feel the blush coat my cheeks, embarrassment from the way he repeated my words about him. They sound worse when he says them out loud. "Whatever. It's not like you would have answered me truthfully had I asked."

"We've been out here for almost half an hour and in all that time, you've repeatedly called me names and made assumptions. You've wasted time you could have used to ask me about myself." His tone is sarcastic and mocking. It makes my face heat up in annoyance. He makes it sound like I was too stupid to ask him about himself.

"Like you would have answered me," I snort and look down at my camera, absentmindedly zooming in and out on the ground. "You never spoke to me like a human being until last night." I look up at him. "Everything from your mouth with regard to me has been rude and demanding."

He opens his mouth to speak but I don't let him.

"No. I'm not finished. You talk about me judging you before knowing you? Isn't that a bit hypocritical, Mr. Cullen? Have you not treated me like someone beneath your social stature? And don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you think my being upset is cute. I'm not being cute, Mr. Cullen. I'm pissed off."

"You're about as intimidating as a hissing kitten."

"Don't fucking mock me!" I huff, angry at his dismissal of my feelings. "Didn't you ask the Wizard for a heart, Tin Man? Because if you did you'd understand that it's not okay to make fun of someone when they're clearly upset! Maybe if you focused more on the people around you and less on being a pompous asshole you'd realize that!"

"Do you always squint so hard when you're frustrated?"

"Fuck off!"

"You've got quite the mouth on you." His eyes flicker to my lips. I hadn't realized I was swearing so much but now I don't want to stop.

"Does that shock you? That this "kitten" has a nasty bite?"

"I haven't decided yet. I admit your claws do seem a bit sharp, but I have a _very rough_ exterior, kitten. You might have to _dig deeper_."

"Birdy?" Paul's voice comes from behind me, snapping me out of the bubble Mr. Cullen and I seem to be in.

"Yes?"

"Oh, hello Mr. Cullen." A nod passes between the two men. "Just wanted to talk to you, baby. " I hear Edward snort and watch him turn his head as if he's not listening to us. "I'll guess I'll see you inside?" Paul looks at both of us before heading back inside the shop.

"Hmph. What is it with you baristas and sounding so unsure of yourselves? If he's going to see you later, why does he say it like a question?" Mr. Cullen grumbles under his breath, more words I can't understand leave his lips.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What? No arrogance? No judgment? Are you sure you're Mr. Cullen? You seem to be off your game today. And what was with the snorting when Paul was talking to me?"

"It's very interesting to me that you'd find him attractive enough to date."

"Who said I was dating him?"

"Baby?" he smirks. My breath hitches for a second thinking he's calling me that. He's just referencing Paul. "Take it as a compliment."

"Why are you so infuriating? Everything from your mouth drips with disdain. It's a wonder you have a girlfriend, I can't even believe you found a girl who can be around you for extended amounts of time!"

"She doesn't challenge me all the damned time."

"Why? Is she too busy spreading her legs for you or shoving you against walls for make-out sessions in public places?"

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"Does anyone _ever_ fight back?"

"Yes. Still, I'm not used to being challenged."

"Maybe it should happen more often, then."

"Maybe, I agree."

"Maybe, you should."

"Do you like being challenged?" he questions. My eyes are locked on his. I can't break away.

"Not particularly. Though, you seem to love doing it to me every fucking day."

"Is that what you think of me, Bella?" My name falls from his lips and I'm not prepared. It hits me hard, deep inside. I hate the voice inside me begging to hear him say it again. "That I come here to challenge you everyday? That _you're _the reason I'm being difficult? That _you're_ the source of all this?"

"No." My voice is small and quiet.

"Good, because you're not." Soft emerald turns to dark jade. Intimidating and intense, as always. "And for the record? I didn't _choose_ to be a courtroom shark. I chose to respectfully follow in the honorable footsteps of my father, Carlisle Cullen. You'd know that if you had asked. But, you already know me, right?" He stares intently at me and I feel my body shiver as ice cold green pierces through me. I can't say anything because I don't know what to say. I feel horrible for the words I said but I can't bring myself to take them back.

He leans in so close, as close as he was last night when I couldn't breathe at his proximity. "Goodbye, Bella."

His cool breath touches my neck and tickles up my face as he moves away slowly before turning and walking down the side walk, away from me. I take a deep breath and then another. I look around me, finding myself alone. I swear I smell alcohol but I haven't had a drink today.

**A/N:**

Stephenie owns Twilight.

Mauigirl60: thank you for your help with this chapter – you're always so quick to get my ch's back & you always make them pretty!

Amy, ain't nobody got time for that!

You totally need to head over to **TypoKween's** ffnet page & read her challenge..and her epic fic The Slowest Burn.

This challenge really kicked my ass. I can't seem to be 100% happy with any version of it but I didn't want to delay posting any longer. This is a challenge and I want to try and post each week, even when it's difficult.

p.s. I'd totally love it if you left a review.


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